


Which Way I Fly (Is Hell)

by WolfAtSea



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Accidental Child Acquisition, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff and Crack, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts 2017, Nineteen Years Later, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:13:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23705914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfAtSea/pseuds/WolfAtSea
Summary: Harry found the two boys at Albus’ 11th birthday party.One had spikey blond hair and said his name wasGellert.The other one was obviously some form of Tom Riddle.The only thing Harry could say in the moment was “Who even invited you two?”The reincarnation AU in which Harry sort-of-but-not-really adopts Tom, Albus Potter becomes convinced that his dad is trying to replace him, and Gellert thinks everyone and everything is beneath him. And of course Scorpious has more sense than everyone else combined. Dark arts, accidental time travel, vampires, duels - turns out 2017 Hogwarts is no safer (i.e.: more boring) than it was in the 90s.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Scorpius Malfoy & Albus Severus Potter, Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18
Collections: Corona Challenge





	Which Way I Fly (Is Hell)

Harry stared at the two boys. They looked about ten.  
  
One had spikey blond hair and radiated petulance. He reminded Harry more of Calvin from _Calvin and Hobbes_ than a dark lord, but he said his name was _Gellert_ , so.  
  
The other one was tall, very thin and very pale, which meant they were already off to a bad start. Harry had had plenty of bad experiences with tall, thin, and pale things. His face Harry once saw in Dumbledore’s memory and would never, ever forget.  
  
“Who even invited you two?” he blurted out. Granted, not the most adult thing to say to young guests at one’s son’s birthday party. But Harry was tired, okay? Ginny made him stay up half the night to finish all the decorations. James woke the whole family up at 5:34 A.M. because he was much more excited about Albus’ eleventh birthday than Albus was about pretty much anything in life. So now he was sleep-deprived, there were Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes exploding all over his house, and he’d caught two former (future?) dark lords conspiring in his home office.  
  
“Scorpius,” the spikey blond answered with a distinctive German accent and a very bored look on his mousey face. He was lucky it was still the cute kind of mousey. “He had to. I’m his second cousin.”  
  
Right. Of course he was.  
  
The other boy put on a smile so beautiful and innocent that Harry had the sudden urge to flee his own house. “Albus did, Mr. Potter. We met last summer at camp.”  
  
Ah yes, camp - Scorpius dragged Al to this nerd camp for wizarding children last year, and they brought back those flying robot things that terrorized the Potter household for an entire month. They joked that those monsters were powered by the Dark Arts. Now Harry wondered if that claim had more basis than they thought.  
  
“And we’re sorry for coming in here, sir. We were just talking.”  
  
Right. Of course they were. When Harry walked in, they were seated in the two side-by-side ornate armchairs separated by a small coffee table that Ginny bought to give the office more _class_. Like world leaders posing for pictures at a diplomatic summit. Like two dark lords divvying up the world for domination, he realized with a long-suffering sigh.  
  
“It’s all right,” Harry responded mechanically. He kept his mouth open for a moment then closed it because he couldn’t think of anything intelligent to say. So he went back to staring at the boys, his inner Hermione telling him off for not being able to think of anything intelligent to say. She also suggested he quit staring before it could be considered creepy. He was a grown man alone with two young boys he didn’t know, after all.  
  
Harry could feel a headache coming on. His scar hadn’t hurt in nineteen years. To be fair, it wasn’t quite his scar that was hurting now. Just his … general being … brain. Yes, his brain hurt.  
  
This was so unfair! He’d paid his dues, hadn’t he? He’d defeated one whole Dark Lord before he even turned eighteen. He’d cheated death _twice_. He had _three_ children to raise. His job demanded long, tedious hours and marriage was a lot more work than advertised. And now this? Harry was starting to regret not taking that Master of Death gig when he had the chance.  
  
Both boys had icy blue eyes. If they remembered who they were, they could be using _Legilimens _on him. Oh was that why his head hurt? Then again, if they remembered who they were, why hadn’t they burned down the house and murdered everyone inside yet? Most importantly, the darker haired boy had introduced himself as “Tom”. No way Voldemort, even a scaled down version, would willingly let Harry bloody Potter call him Tom, right? Hence the main reason Harry hadn’t alerted his fellow Aurors yet. Well, that and his usual lack of self-preservation instincts.  
  
Of course, the kid could’ve been screwing with him. But probably not. Voldemort wasn’t exactly known to possess a sense of humour.  
  
Just as the silence was stretching into something uncomfortable, it was broken by a loud chorus of “Happy birthday to you -”  
  
“Ah there’s the cake,” Harry straightened from his perch on his electric sit-stand desk. He probably shouldn't miss his own son’s cake cutting, miniature dark lords or not.  
  
Spikey Blond took that as a cue and bolted out of the room towards the cake procession. The darker haired boy followed the best he could, and only then did Harry notice the limp.  
  
His parental instincts took over for a second. “Hey, you might want to watch out for the -” But there were too many things to watch out for. There was a Portable Swamp bubbling happily by the parlour. The cake had probably been tampered with - maybe some sort of Canary Cream product? Harry thought he saw some kids tossing around a Fanged Flyer without gloves on earlier, but they ran away without giving him the chance to yell at them.  
  
As it stood, before he could finish his word of warning, “Tom” slipped on the Black Ice Rink in front of the stairs, cracking his head on the way down. Hard.  
  
And all of a sudden there were a lot of kids screaming, the cake had been toppled, and Harry had his arms full of a crying and profusely bleeding child. Somehow that made the whole day seem normal again.__

**Author's Note:**

> Adapted from a COVID-19 quarantine-induced dream. Reviews please?


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